By Mona Lott

1. Stand and Stare: You’ve got one! Your very own close-talker. This one will talk until he runs out of breath, keels over and a dies. The wall of irrelevant nonsense that’s coming at you will likely send you in a semi-trance. Stare right into his eyes, smile and nod your head occasionally. Prepare to be there for what will feel like years.

2. Be Sassy: Take that sassy-straight-talking-stage-personae with you everywhere you go. As soon as you enter the venue, YOU are the star. Leave humility at the door. Normal people will think you’re full of yourself, but the Superfans will eat that shit up. 

3. Singing to Strangers: Remember that old performance tip? “Pick one person in the audience to sing to, it’ll make their night!” By ALL means, pick the lonely guy who’s leaning over his beer in order to be closer to you and mouthing all the lyrics to your songs. 

4. Schmirting: Every musician knows there is a fine line between schmoozing and flirting. One minute you’re thanking them graciously for buying your CD and the next minute they’re leaning in for the kiss. Wear a low cut shirt and lean over the table while signing CDs. 

5. Shit-talking: Maybe the sound guy was an idiot tonight. Maybe you really should’ve gone second in that double-bill show. Your Superfan will be the first to let you know. Engaging in self-aggrandizing shit-talking about the venue, the promoters, the staff, etc will lure your Superfan into thinking you trust them. Just make sure they don’t take it upon themselves to let the venue know that the show wasn’t up to your usual high standards. 

TIPS* All facetiousness aside, this article is meant to be a cautionary tale. So here are some tips to avoid stalker provocation:

Drive-by-Talking: Master the art of having a quick “Hello, how are you?” moment with people as you’re walking by them. If you stop, you’re likely to get lulled into a conversation and you won’t be able to get out. If you keep walking while smiling it shows them that although their thoughts are important to you, you are busy being busy-and-important right now.

Emergency-Rip-Chord: If you do get lulled into an endless conversation, have a back-up excuse in mind. If you’re like me, you’re completely scatter-brained and tend to forget things. Use this to your advantage by coming up with a perfectly legitimate emergency excuse why you have to leave and go do something right now. Something like, “Oh my god, I forgot to write out the set list!”, or “I forgot to pay the drummer!”. Even if it’s, “Holy shit, I really have to pee!” whatever it takes to make a quick get-away.

Rescue-Me-Signal: If you’re uncomfortable lying to people yourself, get your band in on it. Ask your bass player to keep an eye out for you scratching your head or fixing your glasses while schmoozing. This is the signal for him to come get you so you can, “Do some biz”. 

Resophonic Guitar: Wait, you did say, “Dobro”, right?

His Right-Hand Technique:

Your ideal reso-picking reclining partner will utilize one thumb pick and two metal finger picks in his index and middle fingertips.  With an equal combination of rakes, pinches and rolls, he will make both his dobro and his dame moan and wail.  Take heed of the resonator guitarist who plays mostly in rolls.  Masquerading as a reso player is a common practice among banjo players who wish too look more esoteric and alluring.

His Right-Hand Technique:

Your bluegrass beau has two main choices on what type of slide to use.  Most players use a standard slide with grooves in the top and sides for the pickers thumb, index, and middle finger.  There isn’t much information to be gleaned from the use of this slide, as it is as common as missionary position.

The reso player’s other option is a lap steel slide.  This slide is shaped like a gleaming silver sausage and is only used by the rarest of these rare instrumentalists.  Noticeably more phallic, this slide offers a multitude of lewd alternate uses, but keep your eye out for any sort of bi-curiosity.  He is, after all, clutching a shining, vibrating, metal dildo.

His Axe:

As the most baffling and esoteric of all the bluegrass musicians, little is known about the resophonic guitarist’s tool of the trade.  Obviously Dobros and Scheerhorns are at the front of the pack, but generally if his reso sounds good, it is good.  If your hunk is playing an electric reso or one varnished with a blue, green, or red finish, he is a born comedian.  He may get freaky in the bedroom, but he is also bound to be willing to laugh at himself if he makes an erotic error.

(Dobro Disclaimer:

The Reso player is the newest addition to the bluegrass cannon of hotties, ergo they are rarer and more confusing than any of the other instrumentalists.  The titillating name of the instrument, the curves of its sides, the location on his body where it rests…Admit it, all these things have got you totally hot, but hold back your unbridled attraction and settle your thoughts for a moment.  The Dobro player is a man of mystery. He is one part country and he is one part bad boy.  This combination can be explosive in both positive and negative ways, so drop your plumbline in those still waters before you dive in headfirst and realize that they didn’t run quite so deep as you’d thought.)

Remember, Bluegrass Belles!  Though your knight with the shining Calton may be just around the corner, it pays to take in musical technique before testing out your harmonies in a tent, hotel room, or car trunk.  Happy Jamming!

-Anita Merkin

By Maura Gaughan

By J. C. Travell

With my own eyes—and after the turn of the millennium—I have seen a braless, gray-haired senior citizen sporting a multi-colored, tie-dyed t-shirt over purple sweatpants.  The image took me aback, probably because the purple pants picked up the color of one of the fractured rays of the tie-dye design demonstrating that thought—thought from 1974, perhaps, but thought, nonetheless—went into selecting the ensemble. 

She was standing outside Caffé Lena, the Saratoga landmark that’s touted as a folk career launching pad, with Bob Dylan and Arlo Guthrie included among its glittering alumni.   It was fate that guided me down Phila Street that day, fate that directed my eye to the window poster that announced a performance by one of my folk favorites.   That’s how, a few hours later, I found myself at Lena’s chatting with the braless senior citizen as I officially re-entered the folk scene after a 25-year hiatus imposed, pretty much, by my discovery of rock and roll.

Since that day, I’ve been delighted to discover that some of my favorite folkies—people like Tom Rush, Eric Andersen and Steve Forbert—continue to ply their trade in clubs up and down the east coast (although “Child’s Song” at 54 doesn’t quite hold the same meaning it did for me at 17) and that my lipsticks, in most cases, are more expensive than admission fees to a folk show.  But each time I cross the threshold of a folk club, I look up to the heavens and thank people like Tina Turner and Rod Stewart for blessing me with style, substance and hair gel because if it weren’t for their influence, chances are I’d fall into one of the following female folk audience categories:

Mother Earth:  Most voluptuous girls have pretty faces, good grooming and at least pluck the hairs on their chin, for pete’s sake.  Mother Earth, who will proudly declare that she doesn’t wear make-up  (as though Estee Lauder just might offer a product that creates the illusion of clogged pores), wears her girth like a badge of honor, often calling attention to her most unattractive visible body part by tattooing her favorite band’s logo on it. Whether glorifying her muffin top via loose jeans and a tie-dyed t-shirt or camouflaging it with a caftan-like garment that probably came with a set of six matching napkins, Mother Earth at a folk show (unlike her real-life counterpart) exhibits a wealth of confidence.

The Menial Worker:  She might sell the band’s merchandise or she might deliver bottles of beer to the stage but the status empowers her to act as though she co-wrote half the band’s songs and won a Grammy for each—instead of just being free help.  Wearing an I’m-with-the-Bandana around her frizzy long hair and a band t-shirt (which she got for free because—you know—she WORKS for them), The Menial Worker will, at every opportunity, strive to impress you because she holds an Official Capacity for a marginally-famous performer whose net worth is probably 25% of your own.  (This category may overlap with Mother Earth.)

The Soprano:  What’s that screeching??  Oh my God! It’s like Julie Andrews has leaped off the Sound of Music set, landed in the seat beside you and is singing “Thirsty Boots” in a forced operatic pitch.  The Soprano (who has no connection to the HBO show of the same name aside from the fact that you’ll wish you had a gun if she’s near you) will likely arrive at the show with a guitar as though an impromptu guest appearance is likely. (This category may overlap with Mother Earth.)

The Health Nut:   “You smoke????  You drink?????”  The Health Nut will scold you and aggressively attack your habits, usually while toking on a joint or scarfing down a plate of nachos.   She’s “into” tofu and all sorts of vitamin pills but in pursuit of glowing health has somehow totally bypassed the fitness craze. (This category may overlap with Mother Earth.)

The Stalker:  She sends her favorite folkie photos of herself and stares at him dumbly when they speak.  Far too ugly to be a real groupie and, really, what’s with the hair??? (This category may overlap with Mother Earth.)

The Anglophile:  She’s from Brooklyn but uses words like “blimey,” “chuffed” and “quid.”  The Anglophile isn’t beyond a cure.  Put her in the West Country during a heat wave and it won’t be long before she’s longing for good old American bone-numbing air conditioning.

The Hypochondriac:  Starving for attention but too damn dull to attract any, The Hypochondriac adopts real or imagined illness, corners the unsuspecting and relates her symptoms in exhaustive detail.  And yet, when there’s a show in Tromso, Norway she will, somehow, summon the strength to travel to it which will, of course, trigger a debilitating relapse of her Fibromyalgia, Burning Mouth Syndrome, Bipolar Disease or other ailment upon her return.

The Rip-Roaring Nut: The zombie-like Rip-Roaring Nut gazes off into the distance during conversation, stares trance-like at you, the band, and even the empty stage. She scares the shit out of me. (This category may overlap with Mother Earth.)

And I could go on. 

But as I write this, I’m wondering whether I have the right to pass these judgments on my fellow female folk fans.  Probably not.  How am I viewed by these women as I walk into a folk club and claim my seat (which, I can comfortably fit in, thank you very much)?   Do they snicker at my arrival and my penchant for designer clothes, nose-bleed heels and hot pink lipstick?   Perhaps they do.  Perhaps they should.

Maybe I should open my mind at my next folk concert and be more tolerant of the differences between the other women there and myself.  I’ll celebrate the commonalities that brought us together:  A love of folk music and the talented artists who make it.  Yes, that’s what I’ll do.  At my next folk concert, I’ll open my arms really, really wide and embrace each and every one of my sisters in folk.  I just hope they shower that day.

Bass: Taking it Down-Low

His Left-Hand Technique:

The most important factor in judging a potential bass-playing mate is their timing.  The bassist is the rhythmic backbone of the band, and if your low-down-Dandy can’t hold down a beat in a jam, he’s undesirable as a sideman and as a boyfriend.  After all, your average bluegrass bassist need only play one or two notes per measure-he’d better play them well.

Next take a gander at your gander’s take on the beat.  A bassboy who plays slightly ahead on the beat is generally easily excitable and driven, whereas a bassboy who plays just behind the beat is laid back and modern.  Given that they are consistent in the space between their notes, choose according to your sexual taste.  Look out though if they tend to speed up or slow down.  Your speeder is implicitly in a hurry to finish, and your slow-bro might be a tad lazy.

Like to get spanked?  Look for someone who’s slapping the bass.  (Added bonus!  He probably likes old country too!)

Right-Hand Technique:

Only one tip here, ladies.  If your bassist baby’s beat is getting kind of fancy, ask yourself the following question: “Is he just so talented that he’s filling in everything that the song requires and more, or is he just showing off like a huge f-hole?”  No one wants to get jiggy with an F-Hole.

His Axe:

Does the object of your lust play a traditional doghouse?  Then he’ll stay out of yours.  Stick basses and electric basses are trickier to judge offhand.  Most guys are techies and gear heads at heart, so can we really begrudge them for wanting their fancy toys?  Perhaps they will bring more fancy toys into your lovemaking.  On the other hand, they might be using their other fancy toys to watch others’ lovemaking way. too. much.  Go with your (lower) gut, and hope at some point he’ll let you sit on his amp.

By Eden Forman

In a dance world of Sparkles and Glam, something should be said to those poor, poor girls much more often than ever is… Less is more! Irish dance all by itself is one of the most unsexy types of folk dance out there, other than maybe Dutch Folk dancing (seriously, clogs? Still?). I mean, who the fuck thought it would be attractive to make your body stiff as a two by four and fling your legs in the air? I hope I never find a guy who thinks rigor mortis is hot. So when you add the sparkles, glitter, plastic hair and screaming dance moms you might as well wear a sign that says “stay away from my whoohaa!” Now, a lot needs to be said for the athleticism of Irish dancers, what man wouldn’t want a roll around with a toned and svelte dancer!? But, the glitter vomit version of the catholic school girl outfit is… well it just is…

Now, anyone acquainted with the Irish Dance world will be saying, “Hey, Riverdance was pretty hot!” And while no one will disagree that Michael Flatly was the epitome of sexy in the early 90’s now a days Lord of the Dance is just overly glamified discotech de la noche with an S&M fueled undertone, set to Irish music of course.

Unfortunately, Riverdance also took a turn for the ‘what the fuck?’ after the uber sexy Jean Butler left. Now, that’s how to make Irish dance sexy. Class and grace while still putting on a flashy dance show, not easy to do!

But, these days Riverdance’s leading ladies are forced to wear Halloween sexy fairy costumes while attempting to steal our hearts once more.  Not a look I recommend… ever.
                            

So, what do you wear? When dressing for a performance a girl should keep it simple and classy. Let your inner Jean Butler grace the stage. Be sexy, don’t be flashy. It is more than ok to show some leg, hell you’ve worked hard on those gams! Show ‘em off! But please leave the green velvet at home. Be unexpected, try a flashy red dress or a neutral number with a flirty swing to it.

At the competitions try and remember, “Less is more!” Sparkles and glitter can be fun, but our retnas can only handle so much. It can be hard to find dresses with a little less glitz, but if you’re spending $3,000 on a competition dress, God damn it, you should get what you want! And nothing screams “I’m much more relaxed than these bitches!” than ditching the wig. Curl your own hair if you love the perm look, or shock the judges by standing out with long hair with just a soft curl at the end. Stand out by NOT wearing neon-orange and rhinestones, you might walk away with a hunky whistle player or couple awards. Either way, it’s a win!

Oops!…I did it again

I played with your heart, I forgot to blog

Oh baby, baby

Oops!…You think that I’m gone

That I’ve left you alone

I’m just in Christmas Celtic…

Guitar-I’d let him strum on my box…

His Right-Hand Technique:

At the professional level (why date below that anyway, right, ladies?) A good bluegrass rhythm player should know how to alternate between beating the living hell out of the guitar (a.k.a. Clay Jones) and stroking it like a newborn kitten (Tim Stafford, anyone?).  Any rhythm player who doesn’t know the difference between the two is likely to be yawningly consistent in bed and unwilling to change his technique. Perhaps his singing voice got him his job in the first place.  Warning, he may be well endowed with a “nice axe” but feels no pressure to learn how to use it.

His Left-Hand Technique:

In the instance that your bluegrass guitar player plays lead, you may be in the money.  This fellow is sure to have studied the licks of masters including but not limited to Clarence White (old school but very hip), Tony Rice (popular but promising), or possibly even Django Reinhardt (exotic and sensual, but potentially snobbish.)  No matter their influences however, this guitarist is willing to woodshed in music.  He’s likely to be willing to put in the practice time in other arenas.

His Axe:

There are as many makes and models of guitars as there are of guys, but fear not!  If you can read tablature you can read your tomcat.  

The Martin player is a traditionalist, and the older his D-18 is the younger his ideal squeeze is.  The owner of an older Martin wants to be your daddy in life and in bed, but if he can afford a guitar that precious he’s either a fantastic player (with conceivably decent skillz) or a rich collector (Skilled in the boudoir maybe, but probably better in a boutique).

The player of a vintage Gibson, Recording King, or Silvertone marches to the beat of his own mandolinist.  He goes with what feels right and is likely to be more free spirited.  Like to get kinky?  Search out a sunburst finish.

The player of a Collings, Bourgeois, or Santa Cruz is likely the beneficiary of an instrument endorsement.  He is skilled enough to be admired by his peers, lessers, and throngs of bleached blondes in band t-shirts who will do anything after a couple lime and SoCo shots.  Unless you’re looking to share your man’s Holiday Inn-capades with the aforementioned type of woman, steer clear.

Your Blueridge, Johnson, and Taylor players are likely bluegrass virgins.  Virgins in real life?Take your chance, but it’s your funeral, darlin’.

A Bluegrass guitarist who plays an orchestra model likely suffers from tendonitis in his shoulder, elbow, or wrist.  This affliction may have resulted from his penchant for tennis, or from his fondness for manual stimulation (of himself or his lady).  Decide accordingly.

By Coco Cortesian

* All names have been changed to protect the guilty. 

Have you ever kissed a performer at Wheatland?

You are 2 days into one of Michigan’s best summer festivals. The sun is out and that thick-rimmed glasses-wearing hotty has been peaking your interest all weekend. He looks ‘oh so sexy’ from afar. Later that night, you are at the dance pavilion and turn to a group of FOLKS calling out “Who wants to dance?” You hadn’t noticed him before, but out from the sea of fans steps your hotty. You join the dance floor and begin the sensual two-step. It’s as if your two sets of hips were made to push and pulse together. Several hours later, taking a break under a tree, this handsome stranger plants a sweet kiss on your lips. Your friends approach you and remind you it is time to depart. You ask this stranger if he would escort you to your van. As you walk, he holds your hand and you think to yourself “What a perfect evening.” At which point you arrive at the entrance to the backstage area. Your companion stops to say, “We can’t go back there.” You smile and answer, “Of course we can, I’m a performer.”  Your hottie, still holding your hand, steps back and replies, his eyes wide, grinning, “You’re a….a performer? I’ve been coming to this festival my whole life and I’ve never been in the performer‘s area before!” And then, the most appalling phrase begins to flow from his lips. You can predict the sentiment of what is coming and only wish you could prevent it…but then it is blurted out for the night air and your sinking stomach to hear…”I kissed a performer at Wheatland.”

This story may sound far-fetched but I assure you…it is totally true. To avoid following in my faulty footsteps follow the rules on engagement!

The Rules of Engagement: Festival Hook-Ups (What Not To Do)

1. Avoiding the moonshine make out

Hillbillies don’t need roofies—they have moonshine. There’s nothing quite like waking up on day two of a festival and realizing your friend from last night doesn’t really excite you when the whiskey wears off. And now he wants to buy you a cinnamon sugared beaver tail between sets. Stay regret free and only enjoy your top three.

1) Assess the field prior to the first sip of alcohol, hit of weed, or taste of other mind-altering substance that day. If possible, select people you’d enjoy bragging about for the rest of the summer.

2) Scan the crowd. Take your time and select three hotties.

3) Now enjoy the weekend. Party safe, if they aren’t one of your top 3, they are OFF LIMITS until you are sober again.

2. “F” doesn’t stand for fun 

Ok, so you are sold on the sober selection method and out into the sea of fans you go. STOP!  Fans are probably the most dangerous hook-up option. Remember ‘fan’ is short for ‘fanatic’, not ‘fantastic’. At first, it might seem awesome to have a pretty face that is in awe of your musical prowess. The view is pretty nice from up on a pedestal.

Never fuck a fan: unless you want a stalker.

HOW TO SPOT A FAN…

From a distance:

Are they wearing band merch or other folk festival merch?

Are they holding CDs and several colors of sharpies?

From up close:

5 questions to slip into conversation before they slip their tongue in your mouth:

The answers to these questions should give you a feel for the level of fanaticism you are dealing with. Mainly you want to avoid scenarios in which you will run into this person frequently in the future.

How often do you come to music festivals?

Worst answer: OMG I love them. I am going to 7 more this summer.

Ideal answer: Not often. They aren’t really my scene.

Which are your favorites to attend?

Worst Answer: Anything I can drive my VW to and camp at.

Ideal answer: I’ve only ever been to this one in my hometown.

What band/bands are you here to see?

Worst Answer: Well, actually I’ve been following your band all summer.

Ideal answer: Oh, my best friend from High School plays in The Shyest of Marmots.

Did you catch our set?

Worst answer: I camped out at the main stage since yesterday to make sure I had a good view.

Ideal answer: Oh, are you a performer? No, I was getting coffee with the band.

3. How (and why) to avoid hooking up with people in touring bands

There’s a new fiddle player on the scene and she looks like a former underwear model. You wouldn’t mind wearing her on your arm all weekend or summer for that matter. But beware, she will eventually move on and that once hot piece of ass can become a future cock block. Then again, maybe these girls are into sharing. If so, you’d better be sure you left her happy enough to give you good marks, but not so happy that she’s still pining. More importantly, what happens when you meet the one you “really like” and you have a love’em and leave’em history? It’s gonna be an uphill battle with the girl of your dreams.

4. Civilians only

Right, so you are sold on the ‘don’t shit where you eat’ plan, so out into the sea of fans you go.

What is a civilian? A civilian is someone who has no interest in your music, hasn’t heard you play or at least didn’t make a point to see you and maybe didn’t LOVE your band. They think you are cute, friendly and witty and that is about it.  If they only want you for your body, you are GOOD to GO!

The mythical hook-up: Tour Managers, guitar techs and sound engineers.

If you actually meet a hot one, go for it! They rarely come out of their caves. But beware, they tour too and could be a regularly featured character in your summer.  Find out their summer schedule, if this is the only festival in the run where you cross paths and you actually think they are cute, I would rock out. I mean-they’ll probably change gigs before you cross paths with this band again.